by Cindy Miles
“That’s all you’re eating?”
I jumped at the voice behind me and turned to find Kane there. Instantly, my insides froze. He gazed down at me, his hands shoved into his pockets, those broad shoulders sort of hunching toward me, almost…cornering me; his eyes as worn and soft as the leather jacket he wore.
“Um, yes,” I answered. I gave a hesitant smile. “Not very hungry, I guess.” What was he doing here? Suddenly I felt closed in—a feeling I avoided at all costs.
“So what’s good here?” he asked. His Boston accent was heavy and void of the letter r, just like Brax’s, only…softer. Quiet. The kind of voice that you had to pay close attention to or else you’d miss what they were saying completely.
I couldn’t believe he was talking to me. I shrugged, pretended he didn’t bother me, and held up my sandwich. “Turkey?”
He said nothing as he lifted three turkey sandwiches from the cooler; his smoky gaze remained riveted to mine. Then, he bent his head close. “Kane McCarthy.”
I looked at him then, taken back by how his voice washed over me and made my skin tingle. I forced myself to breathe; I wasn’t used to being in this kind of situation. Guys just didn’t go out of their way to talk to me. I made sure of it. But I didn’t balk. I mean, after all—Kane was my potential reformation Dare. Right? Murphy’s words rushed back to me. Reform the barmy beast! I breathed. Smiled. Pretended. “Harper Belle.”
Again, his eyes softened, and as we stepped up to the cashier he gave her a nod and inclined his head toward me. Before I could say a word, the cashier had rung our orders up together, and Kane handed her a twenty.
I looked at him, embarrassed. “Oh no, really, that’s okay, you don’t have to—”
Kane’s eyes moved over me. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.”
“Thank you,” I said. I glanced around, scared to see if anyone had noticed Kane’s gesture. As far as I could tell, no one had—except the casher, who’d given me a hasty look. What in the world did Kane McCarthy want with me? In my hand I clutched a five-dollar bill. Despite the sandwich and lemonade only costing three of the five dollars, the whole bill landed on the top of Kane’s sandwiches. “But I don’t take charity. Especially from strangers.” Turning quickly, I started out of the café. I made it to the door, only to have his big hand push it open and hold it as I passed through. Silently, I did. He followed.
“We’re not strangers.”
I made the mistake of looking at him. I shouldn’t have; should’ve just kept on walking. But, I didn’t. His stormy eyes lit on mine, holding on as if we could communicate without speaking. By just simply…looking at each other. I’d never reacted that way before. To anyone. The brown depths of his irises gleamed fathomless; held secrets, maybe. Kind of like mine did.
I cleared my throat and returned my gaze ahead of me, and continued on my way. Dusk was fading fast. “Of course we are,” I said.
“We’ve met before,” he continued in a soft, even voice. “You gave me directions to the observatory. And…” I glanced at him again, and his mouth curved. “You’re friends with my brother and his girl.” He inclined his head, toward the café. “I introduced myself back there,” he replied. “And so did you.” He ducked his head to look at me, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Strangers no more.”
I walked faster, crossing the quad to the main parking lot where I’d left my Lexus. I spared him a look. “We’re friends, yes. But all the same I make it a habit never to accept handouts, even from friends.” I held my eyes to his. “I don’t like owing anyone. Besides. We’ve barely known each other ten minutes.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Handouts? I was just—” He sighed. “Never mind. So why are you in such a hurry?”
“I’m late for a Greek assembly,” I lied, and just like whenever I had to lie, I started feeling cagey. Ready to escape. I felt my skin prickle. I felt ready to run.
Breathe, Harper. Just breathe. Don’t let them in. Don’t let them see you.
He’s nobody.
Another deep breath, inconspicuous, and I shook off the feeling that sometimes threatened to swamp me. That brought on confusion. Slips of memory. And what Corinne Belle called fits of unnatural behavior. I hadn’t had an episode in, well, forever. Yet within a few moments Kane McCarthy threatened to pull one out of me. I breathed slowly. Controlled. Focused on the now. Tamped down what madness was brewing inside of me. I stopped at my car and, with the keys in my hand, I pressed the unlock button and opened my door. Kane was right beside me.
“It was nice meeting you,” I said calmly. I’d almost forgotten my manners so I quickly flashed a well-practiced smile. “Welcome to Winston, Kane McCarthy.”
As I shut the door to my Lexus, Kane stepped back and watched me silently. Crazy, but I looked at him—as if my eyeballs had a will of their own, as if they didn’t care the state in which Kane almost drove me to. And it was a mistake. Not a fit of unnatural behavior sort of mistake, but…different. Unfamiliar. Shocking. Those coffee colored eyes bore into mine, steady and quiet and smoky and something else I couldn’t identify. Didn’t want to. Then, a small movement lifted his mouth in the corner, shifted his expression into what looked like amusement—or interest—and he gave a single nod of goodbye. Quickly I pulled past him and drove away.
As I drove through Winston’s narrow, tree-lined streets I let my breath out. Alone, I felt safe. I felt like I didn’t have to hide anything. Or lie. To anyone. Except myself.
Kane McCarthy. What had propelled him to take an interest in me? Why had he looked at me like that? And why had he made me so incredibly edgy? It was all sort of silly, really. I mean, it’d been my idea to use him as my Dare reformation. So why did I allow him to stir such a reaction in me? He wasn’t supposed to be pursuing me. I was supposed to be pursuing him. It made no sense. None at all.
At the main gates I waited for several cars to pass, then when it was clear I pulled out, heading toward a place I frequented. My favorite place. Me and no one else. If I hurried, I’d have a few minutes before it grew too dark.
I entered the city limits of Covington and soon after veered right, down an oak-lined road. Street lamps cast a hazy glow over the pavement, and soon the entrance to Ardsley Park emerged on the left. A small man-made lake with a jogging track around its perimeter, and picnic tables along the side, families gathered here on the weekends. Not too many students since Winston had its own magnificent park. And that’s exactly why I came.
I pulled in and edged along the drive until I reached my usual spot, then parked. Grabbing my turkey sandwich and lemonade, I left my car and walked to the park bench by the pond’s edge.
After I wiped off the early evening dew from the wooden seat with one of the napkins I’d taken from the café, I sat, meticulously opened the wrapper on my sandwich and quietly ate. Small birds chirped and tweeted in the tree boughs above my head, and the sun had completely dropped from sight, leaving in its wake a hazy, almost blurry sort of maddening gray. A mysterious blanket that draped over everything, just before the night’s blackness settled in. I watched a couple jogging along the path beneath the lamplight, and as they ran they bumped shoulders. Raced each other. Played around.
Isn’t that what normal people did? Horsed around? Played? Loved?
Kane found my thoughts again, but no sooner did his somber brown eyes and gentle voice come to mind did my grandmother shove them aside. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, trying to make her go away, back to a place where she couldn’t hurt me. But she still got in there. Inside of me. Just like she always did.
“What are you doing in here?”
I knelt on the ground by the trashcan behind the kitchen entrance. I’d found my backpack in there, where she’d thrown it away. I was digging through it, and my hand held tightly onto the only photograph I owned of my mother and father.
“Answer me!”
I jumped, my hand squeezing the picture into a fold. “No-nothing,” I stammered.
“Pull yo
ur hand from that bag right now.”
My body began to shake as I slowly lifted my hand from my backpack. I looked up, pleading with Corinne Belle. “Please. Can’t I just keep it? I’ll hide it in my—”
With a firm grip Corinne yanked me up by my thin arm and shook me. “You’ll not keep it. Did you already forget what I told you not an hour ago?” She leaned closer to me, and I could see every line and wrinkle in her pale, powdered face. “You don’t exist anymore. Neither do they!” She snatched the photograph from my hand. “Come now.”
She didn’t turn me loose; instead, she pulled me, back through the kitchen, past the pantry and out into the hall. At the hearth, a massive fire roared. Corinne Belle shoved the picture back into my hand.
“Take one last look, child,” she said. “Then throw it into the fire.”
Tears filled my eyes as I looked at her face; cruel, mean, old. Filled with hate.
“Do it now!” she thundered.
Slowly, my eyes left her, and through tears I peered at the photograph. It wasn’t a good one; a piece of the corner had been ripped off, and my parents were blurry. But I could still see them. They were young, before…the trouble began. Before me…
“Throw it in!” Corinne Belle screeched. “Now!”
I gave the picture one last look, hoping I could keep the memory of my mother’s face, my father’s smile, in my head. Then I let the flames take the photo from my hands. In a hiss, the old paper turned to black ash.
Corinne squeezed my shoulders and spun me around to face her. With a bony hand, she grabbed my chin, forcing my gaze to hers. “You are no longer Harper Lewis. Harper Lewis is dead. Your parents are dead. That life is dead.” She shook me. “Do you hear me?”
My eyes widened, and I nodded.
“Don’t you ever defy me, girl. Ever! Eyes are always on you. Do you understand? If not mine, someone else’s. And there will be serious consequences if you defy me. Do you know what that means?”
I wasn’t sure, so I shook my head.
Corinne Belle’s face tightened. “You’ll pay dearly for any mistakes you make. Your grandfather insisted we not beat your mother and look where that landed her. In the grave!” Her mouth turned flat, like a straight line across her face. “The Bible says, Spare the rod, spoil the child. I promise you, Harper. You’ll not end up like your parents. Pathetic, useless drug addicts. Sneaking around my back, having sex at sixteen years old. Sinners! You’ll not become your ungrateful, selfish mother. You’ll not shame the Belles’ good name.”
My breath started coming fast, as if it wasn’t doing what it was supposed to do to keep my body alive. Maybe I was dying, just like Corinne had said I had. My chest tightened, but I didn’t dare look away from my grandmother. I didn’t know what most of she said meant; I wouldn’t ask.
“Now come with me,” she said, and yanked my arm again. “I was hoping you’d not have to learn things the hard way, but I suppose you’ll have to all the same.” She glanced down at me. “There are many ways to apply the rod to a child without leaving marks. You’re about to learn what happens to you when you disobey.”
Panic made my breath come faster. “No, please,” I begged. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I won’t!” I didn’t even know what the punishment was. Only that she terrified me.
“That’s right. You won’t.”
Up the stairs we went, up to the third floor. The lights were off—all but one light on the wall, halfway down the corridor. It made strange shadows grow long against the floor in front of me. Where was she taking me? My breath came faster. My heartbeat quickened.
At the end of the corridor, a short, fat door with a black iron handle. We reached it, and Corinne Belle stood over me.
“Remove your fresh new clothes, this beautiful dress I purchased just for you, and hand them to me.”
Stunned, I could do nothing but stare at her, eyes wide. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I was frozen. I didn’t want to give her my clothes.
“Now!” she thundered.
Slowly, I pulled the new plum-colored dress over my head and handed it to Corinne. Next, my shiny black shoes. My skinny arms covered my bare chest.
Reaching down, she opened the small door. “Removing your clothes makes you vulnerable. It humbles you. Keeps you in perspective. Now get inside. Think about what you’ve done. And ask God to forgive you.”
I paused. Inside the small room, it was pitch-dark. Blacker than black. I could see nothing. Nothing at all.
Her bony hand pushed the top of my head down and shoved me forward. “Get. In!”
With a gasp, I stumbled into the tiny room. A closet, really. The door slammed shut behind me, and a key turned. Only a thin line of light appeared at the bottom of the door.
“Do not scream, Harper. Do not call for help. Do not sob.” Through the small crack, her shadow moved across the door, as though bending close. As though peering inside. “You’ll not make a sound. If you do, your punishment will be twice as long.”
The snapping of her heels against the floor as she walked away rung harshly in my ears. I wanted to scream out, but she’d warned me not to. I didn’t want her to leave me. I didn’t want her to come back. I just wanted to be…gone. I hugged myself tightly, sat down in the corner, and cried as quietly as I could. My breath hurt as it pushed in and out of my lungs, faster and faster, until I became dizzy—
“Hey, darlin’. Are you okay?”
I leapt as the stranger’s voice penetrated my thoughts and dragged me back to the present. I was breathing hard. My chest was pounding. My eyes darted around me. Night had fallen while I’d drowned in my daymare of the past. I collected myself, cleared my throat, smiled, looked at the couple standing there, staring down at me. “Yes, yes,” I said hurriedly. “I’m fine. Allergies. They always get me this time of year.”
The man, probably in his mid-thirties, smiled warmly. “Okay, just checkin’.” He reached for the hand of the woman he was with; pretty, with a long brown ponytail. Together, they jogged off.
I watched them for a while, until they’d nearly made it back around the pond. Before they passed by me, I got up, threw my wrapper and empty bottle in the trashcan, and hurried to my car. Full darkness had fallen, and already I felt the pings of anxiety hitting me. I hardly ever stayed out after dark. Not alone, anyway.
Back at Delta house I parked, locked the car, and just as I walked through the common room, Murphy stopped me. I forcibly pushed the unwanted daymare I’d just experienced out of my mind.
“Guess who has acquired a subject?” she said, her eyes glittering with a frightening sort of mischief.
“Who’d you find?” I asked.
“This is so brill,” Murphy continued, and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Less than a handful of hours after our plan was executed and I’ve not only chosen my prey, but he’s agreed to meet me at MacElvee’s for drinks tomorrow night.”
Curiosity bit at me. “Who?”
That Grinch grin spread over Murphy’s face. The slow one. “Josh Collins.”
My brow quirked in confusion. “He’s dating someone, I thought.”
“Freshly dumped,” Murphy gloated. “Besides. Completely mental, that one. He’s better off.” Her hand darted out before her, like a fish swimming through the water. “I wasted no time, love. Slipped right on in.” She elbowed me in the ribs. “Brilliant, yeah?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Definitely so, since he’s like the go-to guy for the Kappas’ Halloween bash every year. But Murphy—don’t do anything, you know. Degrading.”
Her eyes widened in mock-horror. “Are you off your trolley, Harper?” she grinned. “I wouldn’t dare. So what about you? Have you made a final decision yet?”
“I’m still considering.”
“You should def give it a whirl, love. He’s perfect,” she answered.
I shook my head in disbelief. “See you in the morning, Murphy.”
“Hey, what’s the rush?” She inclined her head towar
d the sofa, where the gas fireplace was lit. A few other sisters sat on the floor, books opened.
“I’ve a test to study for,” I replied, and glanced toward the staircase. “You know I study better alone.”
Murphy’s gaze held mine for a few moments. “Yeah, love. I know. So, hey,” she continued. “Are you headed home for the holidays? Or do you fancy spending them with me and the fam in a non-traditional British sort of way?” She tapped my nose with her long, delicate finger. “Roast and Yorkshire puddings are screaming for you.”
I offered her a smile. “Thanks, Murphy, I appreciate the offer. But you know, my folks always have this big…thing on the holidays. Huge. I’m expected to be there.” My laugh was light, jubilant. Fake. But only I knew it. “Big Belle celebrations.”
Murphy nodded, but her eyes remained on mine. “Absolutely.” She turned me toward the stairs. “Now chivvy along for your bit of swotting. Wouldn’t want you getting anything less than an A.”
I grinned. Swotting meant to cram or study hard—something she professed never, ever to do. “Thanks. And good job on your Dare subject.” I headed up the steps, and in my room, I closed the door, closed my eyes and breathed. The daymare at the park had drained me. Kane for some reason plagued me. And now Thanksgiving and Christmas loomed. Every year was the same. So many offers to go home and celebrate the holidays. So many invitations to go home with someone. Murphy. Olivia.
So many refusals. I refused them all, every single year.
On the floor rested a handful of envelopes. My mail. Lifting them and setting them onto my bedside table, I shrugged out of my suit and hung it neatly on a hanger. Running the brush through my hair I pulled it into a ponytail and slipped into a freshly dry-cleaned pair of pajamas that smelled like lavender. Across the hall, the bathroom was blessedly empty for once and I went through my nightly face-washing, moisturizing, teeth-brushing routine. Then, I crossed over to my room, closed the door, and climbed into bed. No textbooks. No studying. Not tonight, anyway.
